From off a hill whose concave womb reworded

A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale,

My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded,

And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale,

Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,

Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain,

Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.

Upon her head a platted hive of straw,

Which fortified her visage from the sun,

Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw

The carcase of a beauty spent and done.

Time had not scythed all that youth begun,

Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven's fell rage

Some beauty peeped through lattice of seared age.

Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,

Which on it had conceited characters,

Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine

That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears,

And often reading what contents it bears;

As often shrieking undistinguished woe,

In clamours of all size, both high and low.

Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride,

As they did batt'ry to the spheres intend;

Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied

To th' orbed earth; sometimes they do extend

Their view right on; anon their gazes lend

To every place at once, and nowhere fixed,

The mind and sight distractedly commixed.

Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat,

Proclaimed in her a careless hand of pride;

For some, untucked, descended her sheaved hat,

Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;

Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,

And, true to bondage, would not break from thence,

Though slackly braided in loose negligence.

A thousand favours from a maund she drew

Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet,

Which one by one she in a river threw,

Upon whose weeping margent she was set;

Like usury applying wet to wet,

Or monarchs' hands that lets not bounty fall

Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.

Of folded schedules had she many a one,

Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the flood;

Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone,

Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;

Found yet moe letters sadly penned in blood,

With sleided silk feat and affectedly

Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy.

These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes,

And often kissed, and often 'gan to tear;

Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies,

What unapproved witness dost thou bear!

Ink would have seemed more black and damned here!

This said, in top of rage the lines she rents,

Big discontents so breaking their contents.

A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh,

Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew

Of court, of city, and had let go by

The swiftest hours observed as they flew,

Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew;

And, privileged by age, desires to know

In brief the grounds and motives of her woe.

So slides he down upon his grained bat,

And comely distant sits he by her side;

When he again desires her, being sat,

Her grievance with his hearing to divide.

If that from him there may be aught applied

Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage,

'Tis promised in the charity of age.

'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold

The injury of many a blasting hour,

Let it not tell your judgement I am old:

Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.

I might as yet have been a spreading flower,

Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied

Love to myself, and to no love beside.

'But woe is me! too early I attended

A youthful suit- it was to gain my graceO,

one by nature's outwards so commended

That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face.

Love lacked a dwelling and made him her place;

And when in his fair parts she did abide,

She was new lodged and newly deified.

'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls;

And every light occasion of the wind

Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls.

What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find:

Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind;

For on his visage was in little drawn

What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn.

'Small show of man was yet upon his chin;

His phoenix down began but to appear,

Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin,

Whose bare out-bragged the web it seemed to wear:

Yet showed his visage by that cost more dear;

And nice affections wavering stood in doubt

If best were as it was, or best without.

'His qualities were beauteous as his form,

For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;

Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm

As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,

When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be.

His rudeness so with his authorized youth

Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.

'Well could he ride, and often men would say,

That horse his mettle from his rider takes:

Proud of subjection, noble by the sway,

What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!

And controversy hence a question takes

Whether the horse by him became his deed,

Or he his manage by th' well-doing steed.

'But quickly on this side the verdict went:

His real habitude gave life and grace

To appertainings and to ornament,

Accomplished in himself, not in his case,

All aids, themselves made fairer by their place,

Came for additions; yet their purposed trim

Pierced not his grace, but were all graced by him.

'So on the tip of his subduing tongue

All kind of arguments and question deep,

All replication prompt, and reason strong,

For his advantage still did wake and sleep.

To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,

He had the dialect and different skill,

Catching all passions in his craft of will,

'That he did in the general bosom reign

Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted,

To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain

In personal duty, following where he haunted.

Consents bewitched, ere he desire, have granted,

And dialogued for him what he would say,

Asked their own wills, and made their wills obey.

'Many there were that did his picture get,

To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind;

Like fools that in th' imagination set

The goodly objects which abroad they find

Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned;

And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them

Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them.

'So many have, that never touched his hand,

Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart.

My woeful self, that did in freedom stand,

And was my own fee-simple, not in part,

What with his art in youth, and youth in art,

Threw my affections in his charmed power

Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower.

'Yet did I not, as some my equals did,

Demand of him, nor being desired yielded;

Finding myself in honour so forbid,

With safest distance I mine honour shielded.

Experience for me many bulwarks builded

Of proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil

Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil.

'But ah, who ever shunned by precedent

The destined ill she must herself assay?

Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,

To put the by-past perils in her way?

Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;

For when we rage, advice is often seen

By blunting us to make our wills more keen.

'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood

That we must curb it upon others' proof,

To be forbod the sweets that seems so good

For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.

O appetite, from judgement stand aloof!

The one a palate hath that needs will taste,

Though Reason weep, and cry it is thy last.

'For further I could say this man's untrue,

And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling;

Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew;

Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling;

Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling;

Thought characters and words merely but art,

And bastards of his foul adulterate heart.

'And long upon these terms I held my city,

Till thus he 'gan besiege me: Gentle maid,

Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity,

And be not of my holy vows afraid.

That's to ye sworn to none was ever said;

For feasts of love I have been called unto,

Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo.

All my offences that abroad you see

Are errors of the blood, none of the mind;

Love made them not; with acture they may be,

Where neither party is nor true nor kind.

They sought their shame that so their shame did find;

And so much less of shame in me remains

By how much of me their reproach contains.

Among the many that mine eyes have seen,

Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed,

Or my affection put to th' smallest teen,

Or any of my leisures ever charmed.

Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed;

Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free,

And reigned commanding in his monarchy.

Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me,

Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood;

Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me

Of grief and blushes, aptly understood

In bloodless white and the encrimsoned moodEffects

of terror and dear modesty,

Encamped in hearts, but fighting outwardly.

And, lo, behold these talents of their hair,

With twisted metal amorously empleached,

I have receiv'd from many a several fair,

Their kind acceptance weepingly beseeched,

With the annexions of fair gems enriched,

And deep-brained sonnets that did amplify

Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality.

The diamond? why, 'twas beautiful and hard,

Whereto his invised properties did tend;

The deep-green em'rald, in whose fresh regard

Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend;

The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend

With objects manifold; each several stone,

With wit well blazoned, smiled, or made some moan.

Lo, all these trophies of affections hot,

Of pensived and subdued desires the tender,

Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not,

But yield them up where I myself must renderThat

is, to you, my origin and ender;

For these, of force, must your oblations be,

Since I their altar, you enpatron me.

O then advance of yours that phraseless hand

Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise;

Take all these similes to your own command,

Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise;

What me your minister for you obeys

Works under you; and to your audit comes

Their distract parcels in combined sums.

Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,

Or sister sanctified, of holiest note,

Which late her noble suit in court did shun,

Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;

For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,

But kept cold distance, and did thence remove

To spend her living in eternal love.

But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave

The thing we have not, mast'ring what not strives,

Playing the place which did no form receive,

Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves!

She that her fame so to herself contrives,

The scars of battle scapeth by the flight,

And makes her absence valiant, not her might.

O pardon me in that my boast is true!

The accident which brought me to her eye

Upon the moment did her force subdue,

And now she would the caged cloister fly.

Religious love put out religion's eye.

Not to be tempted, would she be immured,

And now to tempt all liberty procured.

How mighty then you are, O hear me tell!

The broken bosoms that to me belong

Have emptied all their fountains in my well,

And mine I pour your ocean all among.

I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,

Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.

My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun,

Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace,

Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun,

All vows and consecrations giving place,

O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space,

In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine,

For thou art all, and all things else are thine.

When thou impressest, what are precepts worth

Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame,

How coldly those impediments stand forth,

Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame!

Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame.

And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it bears,

The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears.

Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,

Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine,

And supplicant their sighs to your extend,

To leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine,

Lending soft audience to my sweet design,

And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath,

That shall prefer and undertake my troth.

'This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount,

Whose sights till then were levelled on my face;

Each cheek a river running from a fount

With brinish current downward flowed apace.

O, how the channel to the stream gave grace!

Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses

That flame through water which their hue encloses.

'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies

In the small orb of one particular tear!

But with the inundation of the eyes

What rocky heart to water will not wear?

What breast so cold that is not warmed here?

O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath,

Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath.

'For lo, his passion, but an art of craft,

Even there resolved my reason into tears;

There my white stole of chastity I daffed,

Shook off my sober guards and civil fears;

Appear to him as he to me appears,

All melting; though our drops this diff'rence bore:

His poisoned me, and mine did him restore.

'In him a plenitude of subtle matter,

Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives,

Of burning blushes or of weeping water,

Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves,

In either's aptness, as it best deceives,

To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes,

Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows;

'That not a heart which in his level came

Could scape the hail of his all-hurting aim,

Showing fair nature is both kind and tame;

And, veiled in them, did win whom he would maim.

Against the thing he sought he would exclaim;

When he most burned in heart-wished luxury,

He preached pure maid and praised cold chastity.

'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace

The naked and concealed fiend he covered,

That th' unexperient gave the tempter place,

Which, like a cherubin, above them hovered.

Who, young and simple, would not be so lovered?

Ay me, I fell, and yet do question make

What I should do again for such a sake.

'O, that infected moisture of his eye,

O, that false fire which in his cheek so glowed,

O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly,

O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed,

O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed,

Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed,

And new pervert a reconciled maid.'

-THE END.

一个深溪里的悲惨故事，

在邻山的空谷里回响，

这应和的声响动我神思，

我躺下静听这难言的悲伤；

一转眼却见一个愁苦的姑娘，

撕扯着纸片，把戒指全敲碎，

恨不能让愁云凄雨把世界摧毁。

她头上戴着一顶宽边草帽，

帽檐遮住了她脸上的阳光，

在那脸上你有时仿佛看到，

一位曾经是无比艳丽的姑娘。

时光并没有毁尽青春的宝藏，

尽管上天震怒，青春余韵尚在，

风霜、岁月也掩不尽她的丰采。

她不时把手绢举到自己的眼下，

手绢上绣着精妙的词句，

让积郁的悲伤化作的泪花，

把丝绒刺绣的字句浸洗，

她时而细审那词中的深意，

时而因莫名的悲痛不禁啜泣，

呼号、呻吟，一阵高，一阵低。

有时，她高抬起她的两眼，

直向天上无数的星辰凝望；

有时她把目光的方向转变，

了望大地；有时使她的目光

转向前方；忽然又目无定向，

游移的眼神向虚空观看，

她的视觉和思绪已乱成一团。

她的头发，没仔细梳理，也不散乱，

显然她骄傲的双手已懒于梳妆；

从她的草帽边垂下的几绺云鬟，

紧贴着她的苍白瘦削的面庞；

但另有一些却仍被发带扎绑，

虽只是漫不经心地松松扎定，

那发丝却听其约束，平平整整。

她从小筐儿里拿出无数珍宝，

其中有玛瑙，有水晶，还有墨玉，

她把它一件件向河心乱抛，

一边坐在河岸边低声哭泣，

恰像是河水要靠泪水聚集，

或者说像帝王对人民的恩赐，

贫者无份，只对富有者一施再施。

她拿出许多折叠着的信笺，

看一看，叹口气，便往河里扔去，

她把骨戒指砸碎，金戒指全砸扁，

让它们一个个葬身河水底，

另外还有一些信：墨迹是血迹，

缠着生丝，折叠得齐齐整整，

封上加封，全不过为了打动她的心。

这些信她止不住用泪眼细读，

吻了又吻，甚至用泪水浇洗，

喊叫着：哦你这记录谎言的血污，

你算得什么山盟海誓的凭据！

该死的墨水颜色也黑过你！

在狂怒中，她边说边把信撕毁，

由于她的心已碎，信也被扯碎。

一位老者在近处看守牛群，

他也许性情狂暴，但他确曾亲尝

多次城市和宫廷里的变乱，

曾经经历过许多飞速流逝的时光，

他急急走近这悲痛的姑娘：

他的年岁容许他不避嫌疑，

他要问问她为什么如此悲戚。

因此他扶着油光的拐杖蹲下，

不近不远地坐在她的身旁，

坐定后，他又一次低声问她，

能不能讲一讲她内心的悲伤：

他说，如果他能解开她的愁肠，

略略减轻她眼下难堪的痛苦，

那也是老年人应对青年的照顾。

她叫一声老伯说道，“您别认定

我已受尽了漫长岁月的煎熬，

断定我早已度过了我的青春，

不是年岁啊，是悲伤使我如此老！

我实在还应是刚吐蕊的花苞，

无比鲜艳，如果我始终自爱，

对别人的爱情一概不理睬。

“可是多不幸啊，我年纪还非常小，

就对一个青年交出了我的心；

啊，无比动人是他天生的仪表，

姑娘们一见到他全定住眼神，

无所寄托的爱全想以他作靠身，

而谁要是真能得到他的爱恋，

她不但有了归宿，更似已登仙。

“他的棕色的发环卷曲下垂，

一阵微风轻轻吹过，绺绺发丝

便在他的嘴唇边来回飘飞，

要寻开心，随处都有开心事，

谁见他一眼也不禁意迷心痴：

因为望着他的脸，你可以想象

你已经见到具体而微的天堂。

“他的下巴还显不出成人气度，

秀丽的髭须，像未修剪的丝绒，

才刚刚露头，而那鲜嫩的皮肤

却夸口它本来的光洁更玲珑。

他的脸却也因此更显得贵重。

因而叫温柔的爱情也难决定：

究竟有它美，还是没有它更俊。

“他的性格和他的仪表一样美，

他说话嫩口嫩牙，从不加思考；

但如果有人激怒了他，他就会

变得像四月或五月间的风暴，

风虽疾却也吹得你自在逍遥。

他那年轻人难免会有的粗野，

只表明他厌恶虚伪、心地纯洁。

“他又是一位骑马能手，人都说

他的马因是他骑才如此神骏，

他的驾驭使它显得高贵、洒脱，

多美啊，那一跃、一立、一个回身！

许多人因而没完没了地争论：

究竟是骑得好才显得马儿好，

还是马好才显得他的骑术高。

“但很快人们异口同声地论定，

是他的仪态举止使他的服装

以及他身边的一切趣味横生，

他的完美决不须靠衣著增光：

额外的装饰只因为在他身上

才能显出自身的美：用以美化

他的一切，实际为他所美化。

“由于在他那善自约束的舌尖，

各种巧辩和深刻锋利的反证，

各种警语和坚强有力的论点，

全为他自己的方便或露或隐，

常叫伤心者笑，含笑者不禁伤心，

他有丰富的语汇和无数技巧，

能随心所欲让所有的人倾倒；

“因而他完全统治着别人的心，

不管他年岁大小，不论男或女

全都想着他，对待他百般殷勤，

他到哪里他们就追随到哪里，

他的话没出口，别人先已同意，

他们嘴里说的全是他要说的事，

因为他的意志就是他们的意志。

“许多人弄到他的一张画像，

日夜把玩，更不免想入非非，

好比一个傻瓜看到别人的田庄

和房舍，私心里竟肯定认为

那是自己的私产，天命所归；

面对着它们，他所感到的欢欣

甚至超过了那真正的主人。

“许多人还从没碰一碰他的手，

就一厢情愿认为已得到他的心；

我不幸，自己的行动完全自由，

就是我自己的主人（不受拘禁），

但只由于他言语巧、年岁又轻，

我终禁不住把爱情胡乱抛掷，

给了他我的花朵，只留下空枝。

“实在说，我也并不像某些同伴，

要他怎么，或者他要怎么全应允，

我的荣誉早使我感到很为难，

我从来也不容他跟我太亲近，

经验已为我修建下重重禁城，

但现在那染上鲜血的城垣，

只表明宝珠失色，我已被奸骗。

“可是啊，谁又曾由于前车之鉴，

躲避开她命中注定的不幸？

谁又能违反她自己的意愿，

强迫她逃离曾经坑人的陷阱？

劝导只能使一件事暂缓进行：

因为我们既已心动，任何劝告

实际上只能使我们兴致更高。

“我们也不能因为已有人受害，

就约束自己避开肉体的欢乐，

不管别人对我们曾如何劝诫，

我们谁又能抗拒那诱人的禁果；

哦，情欲从来也不受理智束缚！

人长着舌头就是为了尝异味，

哪怕理智哭喊着：当心性命危！

“我还对以说出这人的种种虚假，

也明白他的欺骗手段如何下流，

听说他常在别人地里种庄稼，

也看到他的笑脸里藏着计谋，

明知道他的誓言只是钓鱼钩，

更想到他那种种装模做样

不过是为掩盖他的恶毒心肠。

“这情况也使我长时期牢守禁城，

一直到他又一次向我进攻：

‘好姑娘，只求你对我略加怜悯，

千万别不相信我的海誓山盟，

那些话还从不曾出我口中，

因为我多次拒绝了爱情的筵席，

但我还从没请过人，除了你。

“‘你所看到的我的一切过失，

全不过是逢场作戏，非出真心，

这里没有爱情，别瞧煞他有介事，

两方面实际上都毫无真情，

她们既不知耻，我又何必认真，

所以她们越是责骂我不对，

我倒越是感到于心无愧。

“‘在我所见到过的许多人中

从没有一个能使我略微动心，

既没有谁曾使我感到悲痛，

也没有谁使得我心神不宁，

许多人因我心碎，于我却无损，

不管有多少心因为我甘为奴仆，

我的心却仍贵如王侯，自己作主。

“‘你瞧瞧这些伤心人送来的供奉，

这里有苍白的珍珠、血红的宝石：

想着她们的心思我一见就懂：

苍白表示悲伤，羞红因为相思，

看到这些我似也应该情迷心痴，

我也应该理解到她们的悲痛

和羞惭，禁不住为她们心动。

“‘你再瞧瞧这一绺绺的金发

盘作同心结，外用金丝缠就，

许多漂亮姑娘作好了这发花，

要我收行，痛哭流涕，苦苦哀求，

更赠我许多珠宝，怕我还不接受，

又附上精心结构的十四行诗，

解说每颗宝石的特性和价值。

“‘钻石么？它的外表是既美且坚，

这也就是它的不外露的本性，

这深绿的祖母绿，只要看它一眼，

瞎眼的人转眼就能双目复明，

这天蓝的青玉和白玉更不用问，

它象征着各种感情；每件玉器

都被说得让你又是好笑又是生气。

“‘瞧所有这些表明炽烈的热爱

和被压抑的无限柔情的表记，

上天显然不能容我留作私财，

而要我拿它作自己的献身礼，

那也就是献给你——我生命的依据：

更无疑这些供奉本应你收领，

因为我不过是神坛，你才是正神。

“‘啊，快伸出你难以形容的纤手

（它的秀美天下无词可以赞扬），

把这些伤心的表记全都拿走，

任你如何处置，或作你的私藏：

我原是为你服役的你的帐房，

听你吩咐把零星得来的东西，

归总汇齐，然后一起交给你。

“‘你瞧，送我这个的是一位尼姑，

或者说一位自誓圣洁的修女，

不久以前，她拒绝作宫廷贵妇，

她的奇福却引得人人妒忌，

因为有许多贵人想娶她为妻，

而她却冷淡无情，逃开他们，

甘愿为上帝的爱了却一生。

“‘可是啊，亲亲，她该是多么痛苦，

抛开这一切和与生俱来的权利，

不再在一切如意的地方歌舞，

不再不受拘束地恣意游戏，

为了争取声誉她始终不遗余力，

但为了避开创伤，竟匆匆逃走，

只好算勇于退避，非勇于战斗。

“‘啊，请别怪我胡吹，事实却不假，

一件偶然事使我和她偶然相逢，

旧日的架子她立即全都放下，

现在只一心想逃出教堂樊笼：

真实的爱情比宗教更为贵重，

她虽然从来不惯于被人勾引，

现在却毫无顾忌地引诱别人。

“‘你是多么强大啊，听我告诉你，

所有那些属我所有的破碎的心，

把它们的泉源全倾入我的井里，

而我却一起向你的海洋倾进：

我使她们心动，你却使我醉心，

胜利归你，我们已全部被征服，

愿这复合的爱能医治你的冷酷。

“‘我有幸使一颗神圣的明星动情，

她受过教养，追求着典雅的生活，

但一见到我便相信了她的眼睛，

什么誓言、神谕立即都全部忘却：

可是对于你，爱的神明，任何誓约、

誓愿或许诺全可以不加考虑，

因为你是一切，一切都属于你。

“‘你要是征募新兵，谁会去思考

以往的教训？你要是情深意深，

谁还去理会任何人为的阻挠，

管什么财富、法律、家庭名声？

爱的力量是和平，从不顾理性、

成规和荣辱，它能使一切恐惧、

震惊和痛苦在身受时化作甜蜜。

“‘现在，所有那些和我的心相连的心，

在痛苦中长吁短叹，日益憔悴，

它们全都哀哀啜泣，向你求情，

求你停住炮火别把我的心摧毁，

耐心地倾听我对你是如何敬佩，

请千万别不相信我坚贞的盟誓，

因为那的确是出自肺腑的言词。’

“说完这话，他的饱含泪水的两眼，

随即从我脸上移开，顿时低垂，

他的两颊上立即流下两股清泉，

扑簌簌滚落下那苦咸的泪水：

哦！那泪痕狼藉的脸是多么秀美！

即使一棵玫瑰花上缀满水晶

也决不能像他的泪眼令人动心。

“哦老伯啊，在一颗小小的泪珠里，

却能隐藏着多少奸诈和虚伪？

只要两眼里的泪水长流不息，

什么样的岩石能经久不被摧毁？

已死的心也难免作复燃的死灰，

或分裂为冷静理智和炽烈情思：

烈火越燃越旺，冷静却立即消失。

“他的所谓热情不过是一种奸诈，

但那也使我的理智化作了泪水，

我不禁轻轻卸下童贞的铠甲，

抛开对礼仪的恐惧，放弃自卫，

我也满眼含泪和他的泪眼相对，

可是我们的眼泪却完全不同：

他的毒害我，我的却使他暗喜成功。

“他有满腹骗人的虚情假意，

幻化成各种外相，行使他的计谋，

他忽而羞惭满面，忽而哭哭啼啼，

忽而装出死相，做来总得心应手，

而且是维妙维肖，无人能识透：

听到丑话脸红，听到伤心事哭泣，

见到一件惨事恨不能马上死去。

“简直没有一个被他注意的女人，

能逃开他的口蜜心箭的攻击，

看外表他是那样的仁慈恭顺：

被坑害的人全对他毫不警惕，

要想得到什么，他总先表示鄙弃，

如果他由于满腹邪念，欲火如焚，

他就会口口声声地赞扬童贞。

“他就这样靠着一件华丽的外衣，

掩藏住了一个赤裸裸的妖魔，

没经验的姑娘一见他就着迷，

仿佛他是一位天使在头上飞过，

哪个天真的少女能不为他入魔。

啊，我已经失了身，我真弄不清

往后的年月，我却该怎样为人！

“啊，他眼中的那毒药般的泪滴，

啊，他双颊上的那虚假的红云，

啊，那从他心中虚放出的情意，

啊，那从他肺中强挤出的呻吟，

啊，所有他那些似真实假的行径，

很可能让已经吃过亏的再吃亏，

让一个悔罪的姑娘重新犯罪。”